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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432383">Miss Pauling's Day Off</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/texastoasted/pseuds/texastoasted'>texastoasted</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Team Fortress 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>miss pauling needs a day off and by god she is going to get it, not without typical Shenanigans (tm) first</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:08:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/texastoasted/pseuds/texastoasted</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When you only get one day off a year, you'd better live it like it's your last day on Earth. The mercenaries hear about Miss Pauling's upcoming plans and want to help...but perhaps they should have left her to her own devices.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Miss Pauling's Day Off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>a secret santa in my tf2 discord for goose!! &gt;:) i hope you enjoy it pal!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clank</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and then the roll-up door began its ascent upwards. Francine purposefully directed her gaze away from the concrete floor, where there would be a pair of boots waiting for her, and she would surely be able to tell who it was by the size and amount of scuffs on the material. Instead, she focused on the segments of the door folding inwards - the pulling of the chain behind the door steady, almost mechanical. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heavy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she guessed. Sometimes the door would jerk upwards in spurts of energy. It was a heavy thing, and rather stubborn, but the person pulling it now seemed to have no trouble. This was just one of many little mental games she played to keep her mind sharp and really, for some entertainment - her day’s duties could stretch out in front of her like a bleak road in the desert.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, the rattling of the door ceased, and Francine uncrossed her ankles and looked up from her clipboard. It was indeed Heavy, and they smiled at each other. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Right again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought to herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Pauling,” he said, with a nod of his head. “Good morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning,” she answered brightly in return. “Got a delivery for you today. Winter wear. Hopefully it’s not too late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am probably not person you want to be asking about feeling cold,” he said, with a rumbling laugh stirring somewhere in his chest. “But I think everyone has felt fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” she exhaled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Last year everything got dropped off a little earlier, I think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a problem,” he reassured her. “Let me help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun was above them, but an early chill had already set in for the day. She and Heavy worked in silence, unloading boxes from the back of the truck that she had reversed up to the little loading bay this base had. At some of the ones rather entrenched in the wilderness, she’d have to park very far away, tramping through the underbrush, mud splashes finding their way inside her shoes. Francine had learned to take small blessings where she could get them. It was a comfortable silence, and it was a pleasant occasion - getting the mercenaries their winter wear was one less thing to take care of, although it was merely a checkmark on a never-ending to do list. It also signified Smismass coming, which was always a cheery occasion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s all,” Francine breathed, straightening up and placing her hands on the waist of her skirt. She adjusted her glasses. “Would you mind if I had a glass of water?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Heavy gestured. “Please, come inside. Are you hungry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francine checked her watch. They’d finished early, and she didn’t have to be at her next assignment for another half hour. “I can grab something on the road. I don’t want to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was waving a massive hand. “Eat here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francine hid a smile, following the giant further into the base. Their footsteps sounded odd together - his large and lumbering, hers tiny clicks that echoed around the halls. This base was littered with signs of life - socks kicked into the corners of doorways, an empty glass resting on a shelf.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Demo was in the kitchen, finishing off a bag of chips at the table. He greeted her with an enthusiastic wave, hurriedly finishing his crunching. “Miss Pauling!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Demo,” she said, returning his smile, and took a seat at the creaking table. There was a red and white gingham tablecloth adorning it, and out of curiosity, Francine lifted a corner of it. The surface of the table was riddled with little holes and scorch marks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Figures</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Heavy was making himself busy, humming a tune.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are ye? Busy as usual?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Busy as usual,” she replied wrly. “Brought in your winter wear today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, aye, that’s some good news. Speaking of winter - will you be coming to the Smissmas party?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure I can stop by. Thank you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raised a knowing eyebrow. “She’s got you working Smissmas?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just a half day, but yes. It’s a particularly opportune day to get to targets. The focus on the holiday, and all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When is yearly day off coming up?” Heavy asked, reaching inside the fridge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francine let out a long exhale. “Next week, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not excited? If I’d one day off a year, I’d treat it like me last day on Earth.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am excited.” Francine crossed her ankles, picking at a run in her tights. “It’s just...nevermind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s on your mind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were both looking at her with such genuine concern that Francine felt her facade break. Her shoulders slumped forward. “It’s just that it doesn’t really ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> like a day off, because I mostly just sleep. My schedule is so packed leading up to that day, I can’t even really prepare. I’m always so tired after work, so I never feel up to getting the things I need...and then it’s over before I know it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry to hear that,” Demo told her, with a furrowed brow. “Well...what would ye do with the day if you could?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Francine sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Probably take one of those really fancy baths you see in movies, with a nice bath bomb, candles, the whole nine yards. Maybe go shopping - there’s an amazing gun store near my house that has all these imports. Get a gut-bomb burger from the diner down the street. Stuff like that. Wow, it does sound like it’s my last day on Earth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heavy laughed. “Is not bad way to live life, like you will die tomorrow. Sounds like something Scout would say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Demo slapped the table eagerly. “I’ve got an idea! How about the morning of your day off, we help ye out. Get all the things you need and want so you can focus on relaxing. With even just a few of us, it should only take a little while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to say. I...gosh.” Francine stared at her hands, folded in her lap. Her purple nail polish was chipping. “That’s a lot to ask.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It feels like a sin to be layin’ around here on a weekend knowin’ that you can’t relax on your one day off! It’s a bother to no one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He is right,” Heavy rumbled. “Now...you want mustard on sandwich?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Someone was knocking on her door. Francine sat bolt upright in bed. That wasn’t inherently a bad sign, as she was a normal resident - she got the same Girl Scouts going door to door as everyone else. But Girl Scouts at 5 am? Unlikely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took her a minute to unlock all of the locks on her door after peeking through the curtains with a drawn pistol, and she was still bewildered when she opened the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh...morning, guys. Is everything okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spy was standing on her front stoop, eight more bodies fanning out from his sides like he was some oversized peacock. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well...that comparison may not be too far off.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Good morning, Miss Pauling,” he said to her amicably, tapping his cigarette to shake some ash. “Did we wake you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Soldier barked from somewhere in the back. “This is already a late start to the day!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As much as I object to agreeing with Soldier, we are supposed to make the most of this day, no?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, shit.” Francine slapped her forehead. “I totally forgot you guys were coming. I didn’t realize so </span>
  <em>
    <span>many </span>
  </em>
  <span>of you were coming. I was just going to...yes, right. Making the most of it. Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve done the liberty of drawing up an itinerary, ma’am,” said Engineer, tipping his hat at her. Francine almost didn’t recognize him for a moment - Spy was in his usual clothes save for a hat, but the rest of the mercenaries had a decidedly more casual and less-uniform like look to them. It was almost endearing, the way that Engineer reminded her of a father at his kid’s little league game. “Want to take a look?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An itinerary? Yes, thanks…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It looked wonderful on paper. They would split up in groups of three, with the exception of her addition making one group four, and get everything she needed. Pyro, Scout, and Medic would take on the task of driving out and picking up takeout for her lunch and dinner. Soldier, Engineer, and Demo would pick up the things for her spa day, and finally Spy, Sniper, and Heavy would take her to the gun store.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow,” Francine breathed. “This sounds great, guys. Really. Thank you. Let me get dressed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps it had been foolish of her, to lock the door behind her, expecting that she would return to it ready to relax. It was not the first time that Francine had hung out with the mercenaries outside of working hours, in casual clothes, the lot of them looking rather out of place, but it didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> end badly. It was usually better to contain the wild chaos that was nine people that killed for money inside the base, rather than going out into the general public, but it should be fine. This was what Francine told herself, firmly, ignoring the sinking feeling that she might have already dug herself too deep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She piled into Spy’s car with the group, balancing her handbag on her knees and internally rolling her eyes. Francine had never gotten over how flashy the mercenary’s car was, bright red like a maraschino cherry, drawing the most attention to the man whose literal job it was to go unnoticed. She would rather have taken her motorcycle, which was quiet and unassuming, but there was no way they’d all fit on that. Heavy squeezed in next to her with an apologetic glance. It was a nice day, at least. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I apologize about the caravan, by the way,” Spy told her idly while looking in the rearview mirror at the other cars backing out behind them. “It was supposed to be just a few of us. But word caught on, and everyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be involved.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” she laughed. “It’s sweet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francine leaned her chin on her elbow and idly tuned in to Sniper and Spy chatting about something in the front of the car. There was a breeze, and not too many people out and about the town yet. Before she knew it, they were pulling into the town center, thankfully not attracting too many wayward glances. Smissmas decorations had already gone up. Unfortunately, that was something she always ran out of time to do at her own home, but one of those fake tabletop trees would at least make it up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this the store?” Sniper asked, tipping back the brim of his hat. He looked impressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Francine answered with a smile. “It’s a good one. They’ve put on several exhibits over the past few years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m actually excited to go inside,” Spy quipped, closing the car door behind him, “It’s not some redneck establishment that this country is so found of sprinkling inside every shopping mall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They entered the store, and immediately the woman at the counter smiled. “Hello again, Miss Pauling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francine couldn’t help but match her smile. “Hello.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride as the three mercenaries strolled around the glass displays with thinly-concealed interest. It was sort of like </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> store. It was her favorite - they had everything, and if they didn’t have everything, they would order it in special for her. Francine wasn’t pompous and was fine at shopping at any old grocery store, but this was the one establishment that she took pride in the obvious clientele it catered to. She’d forgiven the suspicious glance she’d first gotten when she walked in here, but that didn’t last long when she demonstrated both her knowledge of what she was shopping for and the means to pay for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spy had already materialized in front of the register, pulling a card out of his jacket. “Will you ship to this address?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francine turned away from him with a grin and went to examine the glass cases herself. She knew what she wanted - she had a catalogue at home that had big red circles in it, and it was soon enough to allow herself to add to her collection. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sniper was talking quietly to Heavy, pointing to something in the case, and Francine let out a long, relieved sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something the matter?” Spy asked her, tucking a wallet back inside his suit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not at all,” she said, and smiled. “It’s just...well...it’s nice for a little peace and quiet. I’m glad you guys appreciate this kind of store too. I’m kind of here a lot, and…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It represents you,” Spy answered. “Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It cleans up a bit better than me,” she said, and laughed good-naturedly. “But really, thank you for taking me. It’s the best treat to just have time to shop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand completely. What are you thinking of purchasing? I already opened a line of credit with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>mademoiselle</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the register, so whatever you wish-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spy, you didn’t have to do that!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is my gift to you. It is also partially for me, as I can see myself returning here. Truly, whatever you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s dangerous,” Francine said, seriously, and they both laughed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They piled back into Spy’s car, Francine’s eyes bright and shining, and her cheeks pink with excitement. She’d had the manners to not go </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> wild in the store, of course, but had still walked away with some of the items on her wishlist. It was truly a gift to be allowed the time to browse around, unrushed by the calling of bodies that needed to be buried, and knowing that the rest of her day was being taken care of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pulled up to her house. Heavy, who had been aimlessly gazing out the window, turned his head to look through her front window. Suddenly, Francine saw his expression go flat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will carry your bags inside,” he said quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Concern collecting in the pit of her stomach, Francine craned her neck. She couldn’t see anything - but then, there was a glimpse of a worn ball cap - Engineer, in the backyard. It was a little odd, sure, but perhaps they’d gotten back early and he’d just wanted to wander around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh...why don’t you wait here?” Sniper suggested, seemingly having spotted his teammate as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, good idea. Wait here a moment.” Spy told her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francine sat in near silence, listening to the drumming of her fingers on the upholstery and the ticking of the car’s engine cooling off. There was no sign of anyone coming back out to get her. Finally, she could take it no longer, and stepped cautiously up her front drive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She immediately pinched her nose when she entered the house. There was an incredible odor of something burning - or already burned. There was loud talking, too, hurried voices fighting over one another. Francine felt dread descend on her shoulders like an avalanche. Almost unwillingly, she stepped into the kitchen. An absolute...</span>
  <em>
    <span>mess</span>
  </em>
  <span> was on her kitchen counter, a mass of weeping, scorched plastic bags, and absolutely blackened takeout containers. The smell was overwhelming, and coughing, Francine stumbled to the kitchen window. She finally got it open, and thrust her head out for some fresh air, only to meet eyes with Engineer and Medic, who were crouching in the grass below her, looking up at her with a guilty expression. Engineer had one hand on a wrench that was currently attached to her water main on the side of the house. A sound was making it past the blood rushing in her ears, the tinkling of something broken crunching underfoot, and far-off, a barrage of swearing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome back,” Medic said, tentatively, with a wavering smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is going </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span> here?” Francine shouted, storming into the backyard. Scout swore and dropped the trash can he was holding in surprise, which was chock-full of porcelain shards. “Is that my </span>
  <em>
    <span>bathtub?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll fix it, Miss Pauling,” Engineer was saying, coming around the corner and wiping his hands on his pants. “Promise. We’ll get a new one installed today. I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spy was coming out of the house behind her with a particularly intense expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mon dieu</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said to himself, and then turned to her. “Miss Pauling. Maybe you should wait out-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never should’ve left them unsupervised. I’m real sorry.” Engineer said, wringing his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not all my fault!” Demo objected. “He started asking me questions, I thought he was just interested in chemistry!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Soldier? Interested in chemistry?” Medic scoffed, crossing his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Engineer turned on him. “You’re not so blameless yourself, doc,” he said coolly. “Picking up lunch without any problems too beneath you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Medic gaped at him and turned red. Heavy put his hands in the air in a calming motion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Scout</span>
  </em>
  <span> was supposed to be watching Pyro! I was waiting by the car!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t bring me into this!” Scout complained loudly. “The firestarter’s the one that scorched the food!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As I recall, you were the one that said the food came out too quickly!” Medic shot back. “Maybe you shouldn't have given them any ideas!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pyro mumbled something and folded their hands together shamefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pyro says they wanted to make sure the food was cooked enough for Miss Pauling,” Engineer reported, with a dead stare. “Maybe you should’ve-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right!” Francine shouted, feeling her throat go hoarse. “Can you all just…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to sit down?” Sniper asked from somewhere to her left, his voice dripping with apology. Francine covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she said firmly. “Can you just...let me see the bathroom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sniper wordlessly led her to the bathroom. There was a crater where the bathtub used to be, and the toilet was half-shattered. The purple polka-dotted shower curtain she used was curled in a half-burned heap in the corner, shards of porcelain stuck in the walls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard that Soldier took the meaning of ‘get a bath bomb’ a little too literally,” Sniper said quietly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a knocking at her bedroom door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come in,” Francine said softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spy entered, clearing his throat and shutting the door behind him. “The bathroom is...well, we were able to find a new toilet on short notice. The laborer says the bathroom will need to be remodeled. To my knowledge, that has already been arranged. But it’s cleaned up, as is the backyard and kitchen. I took the liberty of ordering some pizza for your dinner. There was a menu on the side of the fridge...is it any good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s really shitty,” she answered, her voice cracking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spy looked very uncomfortable. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Merde</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’m sorry. I can get you-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised a hand and let it fall onto her quilt. “No. It’s fine, really. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The imbeciles shuffling their feet outside would like to convey their deepest apologies for ruining your day off. I think it is best that we get out of your house and leave you now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francine cracked a smile. “Probably. Thanks, Spy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He bowed his head. “Good night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francine rubbed the bags beneath her eyes long after he had gone, trying to ignore the faint smell of scorched plastic that still lingered in the air. Despite her determination to have an optimistic outlook on everything she could, she felt the events of the day weighing on her shoulders heavily. She knew they were sorry, but it had been her only real day off. For a year. So much for that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She clicked the light off and lay down, not bothering to wipe away the single tear that made its solitary trek over the bridge of her nose and down her cheek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Francine’s eyes cracked open, a minute before her alarm was due to go off. Well. The best thing to do was throw herself into her work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While she made herself coffee, deliberately skirting around the part of her counter that had remnants of scorch marks on it, Francine read off her clipboard absentmindedly.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a knocking on her door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe a delivery from the gun store</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, and popped a piece of toast into her mouth as she headed for the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francine was not exactly sure how she felt as she met eyes with Demo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got every right not to want to see our bloody faces this morning, Miss Pauling. We’re all really torn up that we ruined ye special day. Well, I’ve come here to ask...we’d like to make it up to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I appreciate it, but Demo, that’s really not necessary…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hear me out,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “A day off, for you to do whatever you wish. No interference from us. Promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s sweet, but my next day off isn’t until next-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-next Tuesday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Francine raised her eyebrows. “What? No. Definitely not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We worked it out with the Administrator last night. We all agreed to combine some of our days off. The weekend ceasefires. Doin’ whatever backbreaking, body-burying work she normally has you sweatin’ over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to admit, it’s hard for me to believe she’d agree to that,” Francine said worriedly, feeling sweat prickle on the back of her neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well...it may have been less of a discussion, more of a .... strike. It was a tad hard to ignore with BLU joinin’ in, too. She agreed to think about givin’ you more than just one day off a year, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was smiling proudly, obviously waiting for her exuberant response, but his expression quickly morphed into shock when tears began to well up in her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ach, Miss Pauling, I’m sorry. What did I say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no...I’m just really touched, that’s all. That was rather stupid and dangerous to stand up to her like that. But I’m honored, really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” he said, relieved. “Even if she won’t admit it, we know how important you are to her. And to us. If you’d let us, too...some of us would be glad to get you your things again. A few of us. The ones with heads on our shoulders. You can think about it,” he said quickly, raising his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to say,” she said truthfully. “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merry Smissmas, Miss Pauling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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